


Raven Haven

by Arctica



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Battle of Five Armies, Eventual Romance, F/M, Gen, Love, Spells & Enchantments, Talking Animals, Thranduil has a Cunning Plan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-03-16 03:42:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3473159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arctica/pseuds/Arctica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's after the battle, and Sigrid and Tauriel are pining for their favourite dwarves, while everyone else in town is busy trying to move forward with their lives, rebuild their homes, and bury their dead. An unacceptable situation for our ladies to be in!-until Thranduil proposes a sneaky plan to Tauriel, and Sigrid finds out she has magic helpers looking out for her...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ravens!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my own, nonsensical spin on how the movie series should have ended. No offence to Tolkien - I think all his works together make sense - but I thought the movies' ending kinda sucked. I hate it when my favourite characters are killed off! So, to make myself feel a bit better (and maybe simultaneously avoid my looming dissertation deadlines too), I started writing this, and it's mushroomed from there. I wanted to find some way to resurrect Thorin as well - but I think his karmic score was a bit too much in the red... so unfortunately here, he is staying dead.

The wind was picking up in gusts, and dark clouds could be seen gathering on the far side of the lake now, trying to choke the evening off early and threatening rain. Sitting on a big lower branch of an ancient birch tree, an unusually large, black bird tested his wings against the breeze.

 _Must be getting on time to go home_ , thought the old crow sadly. _There’s nothing more to be seen here. No more News. More fighting, more dead people, more food on the ground for the rest of them. But no more News... We can always come back tomorrow and see what their people plans are, find some more News..._

He was preparing to take off into what remained of the bright yellowing sky, when he heard a girl’s voice below the tree, and his attention was pulled back to the earth.

“But why aren’t they back now, Bain? Loads of other people are back, they’ve been back _ages_!”

The crow stopped. He recognised this girl. She was the one that lived with that gruff old widower who had shot the huge, fire-breathing dragon; she was his daughter - his oldest daughter. His best daughter. She was the one that put the food out for the young ones when the snows came, and who had rescued that foolish starling from the snaggle-toothed spinster’s fiendish cat, Ruffles. She was a bird-friend. Why did she sound upset?

“Sigrid, those dwarves have their own battles to fight, who knows where they’ve gone now? Or what they’re doing? Why would they come back here anyway, to visit with us? You need to stop worrying about everyone for once!”

That boy with her- her brother- he looked upset too. Had something happened to the little one, the bird-friend’s young sister? The crow cocked his head to the side, to eavesdrop all the better. _No, they’re talking about dwarves. They are WORRYING about DWARVES..._

But the girl was biting her lip, and staring hard at the ground. She was ignoring her brother’s well argued and impeccably-logical words of advice.

“But Fíli said he would come back to see me, he _said_! He gave me this to look after for him, and he said he would come back as soon as he could get away from his uncle!” The girl held out a small, blue comb from inside her apron pocket, defiantly.

“Fíli? The dark one? But Sigga, he’s obviously got his eyes on that elf-“

“No, not him!” The girl- Sigrid, her name was- lifted her eyes accusingly at her brother. “There’s other dwarves here, Bain, and they’ve decided to come in and camp up for the night in Dale- so where has Fíli gone and camped? Where has his brother gone? Where have any of those dwarves we met gone?” She dropped her gaze again, and wearily sat herself down on the stone wall under the birch tree. “Everyone else has been coming back...”

The crow watched as her brother struggled not to state the one rather obvious possibility. He felt a bit sorry for the boy, really.

“If you like, Sigga, I will go and find Da’, and ask him what’s going on. I’ll ask some of these foreign dwarves if you like too. But I don’t want you coming with me and getting yourself all worked up. Some of the stories people will be telling...well, they’re not stories for girls to hear about, Sigga. You should go and find Tilda’s friend’s Mam, and give her a hand with getting the supper on for everyone. And stop thinking about what those dwarves mean to do. They don’t do things like we do, so you’ll never understand their ways!”

She nodded her head in agreement. “I would feel better if you did ask someone though, Bain. I don’t like not knowing what’s going on. It makes me worry!”

The crow watched her brother give her shoulder a squeeze, and turn towards the ruined town.

“Just don’t stay moping around out here too long- there’s rain coming. I’ll meet you at Mrs Murran’s house for supper, and I will tell you all the news over dinner. I’ll be back soon, Sigga. Stop worrying!”

He started to jog off into the ruins, and the girl watched him go, thinking herself now alone. The crow was slightly startled to see that she suddenly burst into sobs, seeming to cradle the little blue comb in her hands.

“But I want him to come back.” she whispered, into the gathering gloominess.

The crow thought for a second, then reached a decision, and swooped down in a fluid arc from his branch and straight onto the bird-friend’s knee. She gasped and immediately sat up, as he stared closely into her face and gave a loud “ _Krak ka-kraaw kawwn!”_

 _I will go and find this dwarf-friend of my friend, and bring him back to you to make you happy again_ , he promised, soberly.

Sigrid didn’t acknowledge his noble gesture, but that was to be expected from people. They never did listen. He would just have to show her instead, and then she would believe him.

And without another caw, he dove upwards into the wind, and was soon soaring over the stony ruins of the old town. _The people towns look better from the air_ , he mused, _they don’t look so big and jumbled._ But he had better start looking on the battlefield and not in Dale or what was left of Laketown. The battlefield was the obvious place where people and dwarves who do not come back after battle were still likely to be. _She said his name was Fíli_ , pondered the old crow, _why do I know the sound of this name? There was News about this name earlier in the day, was there not? News from the Ravens. Maybe I should enquire from them what they know?_ The crow soared over the town, and saw the sun turn the sky around it a violent orange as its rays hit the oncoming wall of cloud. _Yes, I will go to those ravens on their hill and ask them for their News. They always have their dirty beaks in everything going on around here...Always full of News..._

The crow flew over the battlefield, and could make out the tiny figures of people below. Men people, and dwarves, and elves- and orc and other sorts of fell creatures. Most of them were dead, but a few were moving around. _Looking for survivors maybe, lifting the wounded, a few perhaps looting the spoils..._ The crow did not pass judgement. What were people things to him? None of their behaviours were logical- but sometimes the people did nice things, and put food out (and shiny things), and he could see that they had some good in them. They were interesting to watch, and did funny, almost-bird-like things - although obviously their societal intelligence was far less evolved than in avian cultures.

He reached the Ravens’ hill, and was greeted by a friendly “ _Krrrraaak kraaaw_ ” from his raven-friend, Krrrrk. The crow perched on a stone wall, and explained his dilemma, and told Krrrrk all his News about his saddened bird-friend, the food in the snows, and the dwarf called Fíli. _Was there any News you have, Krrrrk?_

The raven winced inwardly. Would these crows ever get her name right? “ _Well yes my friend, I think there was News indeed. This dwarf is one of those three Durin dwarves, yes? But they were all killed by the large-and-ugly-orc-monster- they are all dead now. The King-dwarf and the two other ones. Food for the Ravens now! This dwarf Fíli is lying on the ground below us, at the bottom of that nearby watch-tower, and the other is lying dead on top of it, so I don’t think either one will be coming back to your bird-friend after all!_ ” The raven bowed her head in a gesture of sympathy. _“Do you think she will be too sad to put out the breadcrumbs next month? You could always eat the dwarves instead...?”_

The crow was saddened to hear this. He much preferred a vegetarian diet these days- it was easier for his old stomach to digest. And the bird-friend, with her little blue comb, would be even sadder than she was before. “ _No, Krrrrk, I don’t think we should eat them. I said to the bird-friend I would bring him back to her, so that is what I should do. But how shall it be done? The people are heavy, and it is far away to carry him into the ruins where the bird-friend is?”_

The younger, sleeker bird raised her head to the sky, so her plumage glowed like a flame in the lowering sun. She roared a deep and guttural “ _KKRROOOAAAK_ ”, and at once, a large flock of powerful, black ravens came pouring out of a watchtower window.

_“We will carry him back for you if you want us to. We are strong and We can carry deadweight long distances. We have plenty of food here and we can spare your bird-friend her dwarf, that she may reach into her heart and feed us when the ground is white once more!”_

The crow was delighted. “ _Krrrrk, this is a very generous thing for you and your roost to do. I will do what I can to help with this burdensome task.”_

With the helpful and strong raven leading the way, the flock of birds flew down the watchtower fall and swooped down upon an unmoving, prone dwarf with blond hair blowing in the breeze. Had he been able to see he would have thought he was dreaming, but his open eyes remained sightless and oblivious as the flock of ravens dug their claws into his clothes, his beard, his hair, and with little obvious effort, lifted him clean off the ground and high into the sunset sky in the direction of the ruined town of Dale.

With their backs to the setting sun, none of the party noticed a tiny sparrow emerge from behind the rock where it had watched their proceedings, and take itself off across the battlefield. And flying as low as it did over the ground, none of the busy birds would have noticed it following them all the way into Dale...

 

***   ***   ***

 

Despite her promises to her brother, Sigrid was still sitting on the wall on the outskirts of the old town. She wanted some time alone with her own thoughts, so she could attempt to squash them into something a bit more manageable in public. She had not even noticed how the darkness was enveloping the street, the colour slowly disappearing from the sky and trees all around her. The noise of a bird calling from the darkened bushes into which she was staring blankly brought her to her senses, and she looked around, disorientated and cold.

 _“Kraaaw_!” The bird called again from the bushes, and an indistinct black shape hopped out of the foliage. Was it the same crow from earlier, the big scary one that had jumped on her and croaked in her face?

The crow hopped across the road and stood in front of her, staring once more into her eyes and commanding her attention with a series of croaks. Maybe it was hungry and wanted some food? Or maybe it was hurt and wanted some attention? It was behaving in a very strange way.

She watched as it hopped a few yards down the road, away from the town, and then stopped to stare back at her. “ _Kraaaaww_!” It tilted its head to one side in a beckoning gesture, and Sigrid had the ridiculous notion that she was being summoned to follow. “ _Kraaaw_!”

She stood up from the wall, and felt how stiff her legs had become in the cold. She surely had some time left before she would be missed by her family- she could afford to follow this bird and see what it wanted? Maybe it had a sick friend she could help? She turned to look back up the road to Dale, but nobody was coming down the path.

 _“Kraaaw_!” Turning her back on the town, Sigrid began to follow the crow as it hopped down the track into the growing gloom.

 

*** *** ***

 

It led her further down the path for some time, and then down a steep, scrubby incline that led down to the lakeside. Sigrid was wondering how she would ever find her way back onto the path in the dark, until she noticed a full moon was rising in the Eastern sky, glowing bright and bloody on the horizon. If the clouds in the West thinned out a bit, she would have plenty of light on her return trip.

But how much further was she going? Where was this bird taking her? She could make out the outlines of big rocks and boulders on the lakeshore, and she recognised the area as being one full of caves, and peppered here and there with the entrances to abandoned, ancient mine shafts.

The crow swooped across the ground towards the front of one such cave. Its entrance faced directly onto the lake, although it was set far enough back from the shore to avoid Sigrid having to get her feet wet on the sandy trek towards its mouth. The crow looked at her intently, and then stared into the black recess of the cave. “ _Kraaaw_.”

A sudden feeling of unease washed over her, as she realised the crow was intending she entered into the dark, gaping cave all alone. What could be waiting for her inside?

She hesitated on the threshold, until her eyes adjusted to the dim light, and slowly felt her way inside with her hands outstretched. She gasped in surprise as her foot hit something on the floor, something lying directly across her path, and she struggled to hold her balance.

Whatever it was lying on the floor made no sound. Trembling all of a sudden, she crouched down and extended her hand onto the dark form on the cave floor. She felt warm cloth- no, clothes! - and realised it was a person before her, a small man with a wet patch across his chest, and a head full of curly hair. Her hands felt across the man’s face, and she choked back a sob. From across the distant shore of the lake, the moon had emerged from behind a cloud, and cast a copper glow into the depths of the cave. Sigrid felt her heart slam into her ribcage, and she stroked the face with her hands, looking in horror at how Fíli’s blue eyes stared open and sightless, with a dark stain drawn across his chest.

Sigrid regarded the bloody patch, and wondered how she could put all the spilled blood back into Fíli’s veins, and make him breathe again, and smile at her again, until she realised that the dwarf’s chest was moving. He had not stopped breathing. He was still warm. He was alive! As long as she could make sure he stayed that way, then he would be okay! But how could she heal this? Was he still losing blood? Could she stem the bleeding? What could she do to help?

 _“Krraark!_ ” She turned and glanced back at the crow, still waiting by the entrance to the cave, and wondered.

“He’s alive, and you brought me to him! And I’m not going to let him die here now!” She closed his eyes gently with her fingers, and ran her hand through the blond hair. “I know you can hear me, Fíli. Stay with me, lad!”

Sigrid took off her cloak and tore a piece off to make a bandage, and lay the rest over Fíli’s torso, to try and keep him warm. She would need to get help at some point- she needed to find a healer for him as soon as she could, but first she would do what she could to give him a fighting chance.


	2. Spells!

In a derelict stone cottage, a red-haired elf sat on the cold hard floor with tears in her eyes.

They had moved Kíli’s body into the house some time ago to keep it from view- they were trying to bring in all the fallen from the battlefield before the day was out, and all around her lay the bodies of dead elves and dwarves. The men were being taken somewhere else. She did not know where. She did not care. She was still trying to understand how she could have failed to save her brave and beautiful Kíli- it was unthinkable. How could he be dead? He had been squeezing her hand and telling dirty jokes just this morning. How could he be dead, when she was still so aware of him inside of her heart? How could something so precious and strong like him be destroyed in the flicker of an eye by something so ugly and foul?

He was so cold, and so still now. She could feel what was left of the life-force within him leaking out like all the bloody puddles he’d spilled. There were still vestigial traces of life left in him- she could sense them- but she could do nothing to save him now, he had lost so much blood, so quickly, and she’d had to watch all that life pouring out of him onto the barren dirt. So she sat now in her trance, weeping, and trying to fix her mind on what little sense of him remained in this world, like a drowning man desperate for a final draw of air.

“I am sorry to interrupt you in your grief, Tauriel, but perhaps I could have a word?” The melodic elven tones of the king of Mirkwood brought her back to the present, and she instantly tried her best to look as composed as possible. What did he want now, after all that had already been said? Was he here to gloat about Kíli’s death some more? To remind her she was banished forever from her homeland?

“I am honoured to see you again, King Thranduil” she met his gaze measuredly. “How can I be of assistance?”

Thranduil stepped forwards into the cottage, and she saw two of his tall, blond retainers accompany him inside. “It is more of a question about how I can assist you, Tauriel, and your doomed dwarven friend.”

Tauriel blinked in surprise. What could he mean? She could see by his smirk that he knew he had hit his mark. “King Thranduil, what do you mean? My friend is near death, and not even your best healers could save him now. How could you possibly assist him?” she spoke softly, and almost did not recognise her own voice, for how sad it sounded.

Thranduil took a step closer, so he was towering over her and poor, lifeless Kíli.

“What you say is true. But it is not my best healers I would have assist you.” Thranduil puffed his chest out even wider, enjoying her confusion. “I have in my service a certain priestess. You will never have heard of her, for her name is forbidden to know. She tells me that there are ways to bring your friend back.”

Tauriel was aghast. “What ways? Necromancy? It is impossible! What kind of black spells would it take to do such a thing? What would it _do_ to him?”

Thranduil smiled. “Your friend would be... unaltered by the process. His bodily wounds would be fully healed, and his life-force fully restored. As long as there remains a trace of life left inside him, the rest can be returned through a secret ritual that can be performed tonight- and tonight only- by my priestess.” He paused to make sure she was fully absorbing his words. “There is a cost of course.                                               The price of a life is equal to a life. But maybe in this case you would consider it a price worth paying?” Thranduil stared pointedly at her, and Tauriel was aware that he was implicating her in this somehow.

She reached out and grabbed Kíli’s cold hand in hers, and remembered how good it had felt this morning when he had squeezed her farewell. She’d been unwilling to admit it to herself, but she knew- and Thranduil clearly knew- that she would do anything to bring him back to her. Anything. She found herself asking aloud “And what is this price, King Thranduil?”

He turned to exchange a glance with his retainers, as if underlining his moment of triumph. “The price you pay for having him back is your own immortal life, Tauriel.”

She frowned. “But how?”

“Your immortal life is used to tie his spirit back into his body. It will work. He will live. But your life will then be tied directly to his mortality, Tauriel. When he dies- of another battle wound- of old age” he paused and looked meaningfully at her “possibly of some horribly unexpected and tragic accident that was perhaps caused by a failure to follow my basic instructions- then you too will die, my elven friend. You will remain to all appearances an elf like the rest of us: ageless, deathless, immortal- but this will be an illusion. You will only live as long as his dwarven mortality lasts in this world, and once your life is tied to his in this way, the spell can never be undone.”

Tauriel considered. What was her immortality without Kíli anyway? She would rather live a short time in the sun than all the ages in the barren winter. She did not even want to live another day with this terrible, empty pain in her heart! But how could this plan ever work?

She looked him in the eye. “The other dwarves will never allow this, Thranduil. You must know that. They will accuse you of performing black magic and cursing the name of their royal family. They have lost all three of their royal house today, and will not listen to sense or reason while they are in mourning.”

Thranduil looked pleased. “They will never know, Tauriel. We will _deceive_ them. It is true they mourn the demise of the royal line of Durin today- they mourn it as much as I rejoice at that family’s ill fortune. Tomorrow they will install another dwarven King-under-the-Mountain, and my dealings with those overblown dwarves will be open for new negotiations. A new era!” He stared at her fiercely. “The dwarves need never know that your friend lives, Tauriel. And if you want him to remain living, you will have to keep it that way. I do not want any restorations of the House of Durin, now I am finally free of their vexation for good!”

Tauriel did not know what to say. Now he was openly talking about deception! Where would this end? What evil would be created by her consent in this plan? How could she justify deliberately deceiving Kíli’s friends and family in order to save her own feelings? What would he ever think of her, should this plan even work? She looked down again at his face, deathly pale and motionless, and tried to put her doubts to the side. This was about saving the life of someone she loved, not saving her own feelings, wasn’t it?

“I fear you can see through me in my grief, King Thranduil. I cannot refuse your assistance. You know I would not refuse it. I will do whatever it takes to save him, and I will keep it secret from the dwarves for as long as I may live.”

Thranduil beamed down at her. “After the ritual is performed, may I suggest you take your dwarf somewhere far away? Somewhere where my son will never find you again...” Tauriel raised her eyebrows. Was all this about keeping her away from Legolas? Would Thranduil literally raise the dead to keep her away from his son?

“We will be expecting you on the far side of the lake when the moon reaches its zenith tonight. We will be waiting by the ruined pier near the tidal river.” He gestured to his retainers again, and one of them produced a jar of ointment from inside his cloak. “We will need to take his body with us for ritual preparation. The ritual itself is one you must participate in, Tauriel. It will be upto you to bring him back, but it will not be easy for you. The priestess will explain it all to you later. For now- ” he looked around at the array of dead dwarves before pointing down at a young ginger specimen. “We will leave you with his likeness, so those dwarves can get on with burying their royal dead.”

The retainer with the ointment moved towards the anonymous, dead dwarf on the other side of the room, and rubbed some of the jar’s contents onto the corpse’s face. King Thranduil glided across the room and clutched his hands across the dwarf’s chest, chanting a low incantation which Tauriel couldn’t understand- and the green glow of a glamour magic flowed from his palms into the dead dwarf’s body. Tauriel felt a stab of alarm as the dwarf’s features slowly transformed before her eyes into an exact replica of Kíli’s. The imposter dwarf now looked exactly like Kíli- even the clothes had changed. This was beyond deception surely, and must be thoroughly indecent? What was wrong with her? Why was she agreeing to go through with this?

Thranduil finished his spell, and admired his handiwork momentarily before clicking his fingers to the other retainer. This one advanced towards Tauriel, and gathered Kíli’s body up from the floor and bundled him unceremoniously under his cloak. Tauriel felt suddenly nauseated.

“Goodbye, my elven friend” Thranduil leered over the room at her, and mock bowed at her. “My priestess and I shall see you tonight on the lakeside. Please do not be late.” He stopped in his tracks, before adding smugly “And bring a warm cloak with you, Tauriel. Your royal dwarven prince might be glad that you do!”

But before she had time to ask him what he meant, he had stepped out the door and disappeared, with both blond retainers in tow, and the last remaining light of her beloved Kíli’s life-force tucked under a cloak like a rolled up rug. Through her tears, she did not see the little sparrow that flew up from the gutter outside, and landed on Thranduil’s right shoulder, chirping softly in his ear...

She eyed up the doppelganger on the other side of the room and shuddered. She did not want to stay in here anymore, she needed to be around other people- other _living_ people- and try to put what she had just agreed to do out of her mind. Maybe she could try and make herself useful in the healing tent? She rose to her feet, and scrambled out into the remains of the daylight, avoiding looking back at the sad copy of Kíli lying dead on the stone floor slabs.


	3. A Meeting

Bard paced up and down the hallway, waiting for the meeting to start. The hall had once served as the town chambers of Dale, and was the most stately room they could have chosen, even if it was missing parts of a ceiling in places. Through the holes in the roof, he could make out that the sun had set already- the sky had lost its fiery brightness and was turning a duller, metallic blue. He fervently hoped this meeting would not last too long. He wanted to find his children and make sure they were all unharmed. Messages had been passed to him that told him they were safe and well, but he wanted to see them for himself.

Across the room, seated around what was once a grand, tiered gallery, were the remains of Thorin Oakenshield’s dwarves, plus several others that Bard did not know. The sad looking hobbit was sat beside them on the front row, and beside him sat the tall, sharp-faced wizard. The atmosphere was glum, despite their earlier victory over Azog’s hordes. They still had their dwarven funerary rites to perform for their dead friends- and seemingly there were many friends to bury- not counting the last members of their long-time royal dynasty. The atmosphere on the other side of the room, where some of the uninjured men of Laketown had gathered, was hardly much better.

The door onto the main street opened and a party of blond elves stepped through the doorway in a gust of wind. King Thranduil led them into the centre of the room, and then addressed the assembled audience.

“Men, dwarves, friends all of you, please excuse our late arrival. A message was sent to me concerning the whereabouts of the dwarven princes, and I had to investigate these rumours before coming here.”

There was consternation among the dwarven ranks at this. Balin stood up, his face reddening. “What have you heard about those lads? Did you recover them from the battlefield? Our people found no trace of them when we went to Ravenhill.” He shared a glance with the other dwarves. “We heard word that they had fallen, from those that saw it happen, but we wondered whether they might have lived after all when we couldn’t find them...”

Thranduil’s features arranged themselves into a display of pious sympathy. “I am afraid you were informed correctly, Lord Balin. They were beyond the skill of even our healers to save. I would like to offer all of you dwarves my most sincere condolences on behalf of the loss of the line of Durin. I will have an envoy take you to where we have stored their bodies as soon as you like.”

Bard saw Balin’s face drop at this, and he sat down, with nothing else left to say. Another dwarf- a burly, ginger-haired warrior, stood up. “On behalf of my dwarven brethren, Thranduil, King of Mirkwood, I would like to thank you for this courtesy. I am Dáin Ironfoot, and if all you say is true then I am the next, rightful heir to Erebor. Although I cannae say I like the particular circumstances delivering me this encursèd throne!”

Thranduil offered a bow to Dáin, along with a solemn smile. “I have heard great stories of your work on the battlefield, Dáin Ironfoot. I would like to invite you along to a private meeting tomorrow morning, where we can discuss arrangements between our two realms.” He extended his hand out towards Bard. “Bard the Bowman, as King of Laketown now I would be most honoured if you would also assent to join us for this discussion?”

And so it begins, thought Bard wearily. The jockeying for position and political manoeuvring. We haven’t even buried the dead yet. He cleared his throat. “Aye, I would be honoured to join you both. It’s always been the hope of Laketown that we could work with you both, and once the reparations we are owed are made we shall have no grievances with any of you.”

Dáin spoke up. “We were planning on burying Thorin and our lads this evening, Thranduil. Them and the rest of our people. It’s not our way to leave them lying there for days, we want them safe in the tomb. Can’t we leave these formalities for a couple of days?”

Thranduil bowed graciously. “As you like. My main army travels back to Mirkwood in the morning, but with your leave I and a small host will stay in Dale until your mourning period is over.”

“Thanks for your understanding, King Thranduil.” Dáin shifted slightly uneasily. The other dwarves did not appear happy with this development, but nobody said anything. Dáin obviously had decided to play the diplomat for now. Maybe he had less of the paranoid, gold-lust in him than the Durin line had shown? “And if you wouldn’t mind, I will send some of our lads to pick up Fíli and Kíli now. We want to prepare them for the funerals.” A pair of young brown-haired dwarves stood up, and Thranduil motioned to a nearby elf, who escorted them through the door.

The Woodland king drew himself up. “My friends, if that is all that is required of me for now, I will retire. I have much to attend to, and I will leave you to mourn your fallen comrades.” And without waiting for a response, he and the rest of his troop swept out of the door, and into the waiting night-time darkness.

Bard cleared his throat. He needed to get this business out of the way and go and find his children.“I do not want to press this issue at a time like this, Dáin. But my people are hungry and tired. They have lost their homes, and everything else, through this fool quest to reclaim that mountain you now rule.” He saw some of Thorin’s party scowling over at him, but pressed on. “Have you thought about the reparations we are owed- winter is coming and we will soon be out of food!”

Dáin appeared to think about what to say for a second. He waved at Thorin’s friends. “You’re right, Bard. It is as a consequence of my people’s actions that your people are in their present state. But my predecessor and friend, Thorin, was wrong to deprive you of what you were owed...” he fixed a glance on Balin, and turned back to Bard. “We will happily provide you with the treasure shares owned by our dead friends. That is three fourteenths of all the gold in the Lonely Mountain.” He eyed Bard up and down. “It is more than enough to build yourselves a new town. You could even build it out of gold if you wanted, with sacks to spare! And once you’re settled and rebuilt, and we’re established back into our mountain, we would like our relations to return to how they used to be, before all this trouble with that wyrm!”

Bard regarded his men, who looked apprehensive about such a small fraction of the treasure share. It fell upon the wizard to speak up. “Men of Laketown, I would urge you all to accept this offer. It is immeasurably enough gold to restore your town, and in fact would feed all of you for many winters. If your peoples work together now, you can between you build Dale up to be strong, as you have shown today! It is through cooperation and understanding that you will remain secure.”

Some of the men still looked unconvinced. So Gandalf tried again. “Do not let the sacrifice of your fallen comrades be in vain. Use this chance to unite your peoples and strengthen what remains of all you hold dear! Azog’s army may have been defeated today, but other fell creatures may return sooner than you would like.”

The men were looking at him now, Bard realised. The decision was his to make- and his to reap the consequences too, no doubt. “If Gandalf recommends we accept this offer, Dáin, then I will not refuse it. Your offer of reparations, for three fourteenths of all your treasure, is accepted. And I too would like to extend any help I can to you and your friends until your kingdom is settled. It is my wish that our peoples should stand together from now on, as we have done today.”

Dáin smiled at Bard. “Then come, my friend. Let’s pay our respects to Thorin and his nephews, and find a drink and raise a toast to our new kingdoms! I don’t know about you, but all that death and orc-slaying has left me gasping for an ale!”

Bard smiled back and nodded regal assent. Was this day ever going to end? He just wanted to go home to see his children! Being a king certainly was not all it was supposed to be...

***   ***   ***

Sigrid sat and watched the moon rise higher and whiter in the sky. The wind was kicking waves across the surface of the lake now, causing the moon’s light to reflect in fitful patterns onto the walls of the dark, little cave. Beside her, wrapped in her warm cloak, lay Fíli. His bleeding had stopped, and she had bandaged what she could. He still appeared to be breathing, but he was lying so still that it frightened her. He looked like he could stop breathing any moment, and then what could she do? She really needed to get a healer to attend to him, someone who knew how to help him, but that would mean leaving him all alone and this scared her too.

From outside, the crow dipped his head and watched her stroke the side of Fíli’s face. She noticed its gaze and studied it back in the moonlight. She had the sensation that there was a fair amount of intelligence behind its glassy, dark eyes. Maybe it would watch over Fíli, and scare away any wolves or foxes that might try to hurt him in his defenceless state?

She bent over and kissed Fíli lightly on the cheek. He felt warm on her lips. “I’m gonna go back now, Fíli, back to town. I’m gonna bring you a healer, someone who can help you. I won’t be gone long, and my friend over there will watch after you while I’m away. “ She stroked his face a final time, and whispered in his ear. “Don’t you dare give up, Fíli! You promised to come back to me, and I’m gonna hold you to that!”

Sigrid rose to her feet, and walked gingerly out of the cave. It was a lot colder now she was exposed to the wind, without any warm clothes on. She would have to hurry, both to stay warm and to fetch help quickly. She paused in front of the crow, and crouched before him.

“I don’t know if you understand what I’m saying, but I think maybe you might? Please watch over my friend, keep him safe! I’m going to bring back help for him- he’s sick and he needs someone to fix him. I won’t be gone long, and I’ll... I’ll bring some food back for you too!”

_“Kraaarrrk!”_ affirmed the crow, as it watched her make her way up the shore and vanish amongst the scrubby hillside.

_Yes, bring food! And I will watch over your sick dwarf man!_

***   ***   ***

Tauriel was making her way up the street, in the direction of the derelict old hospital building that the healers had recolonised, when she almost walked straight into her old friend, Legolas.

“Tauriel! What is the matter? I called to you when I saw you coming up the street, but you did not hear me.” he put his hand on her shoulder, and looked gently into her watery eyes. “Is it that dark-haired dwarf? You are still grieving for him?” His words might have been gentle, but his jaw was set in a hard way, and he looked irritated.

She wondered what she should say. She did not want to offend her old friend, but she could not lie to him about this. Like his father, it seemed he could see right into her thoughts.

“Yes, Legolas. I cared deeply for him, and I should have fought better and saved him. His death is painful for me to bear, and it is all the worse for it being caused by my mistakes in battle.”

Legolas studied her, and nodded. “But it our mistakes that often teach us the way things should be done in future, Tauriel. This is no different. You are still very young, and you will not make such a mistake again.”

Tauriel looked at him, bereft, and lowered her head. “I am banished from your father’s realm, Legolas. I do not think there is any escaping this mistake for me this time.”

He snorted. “Mirkwood is but one of our people’s domains, Tauriel. There are other places to go, where a great, elven warrior like yourself would be welcomed, and...” he looked at her gently, “...my father will not be the King of Mirkwood forever. Perhaps now he has outlasted the line of Durin he will think about a handover of power in our realm too!”

Tauriel did not want to argue. And what if Legolas was right? He might know his father’s mind more than any other elf. “Perhaps you are right, Legolas. I will give some thought to where I shall journey from here.”

“A change of scenery will do you good, Tauriel. There is nothing for you here. Let us pay our respects to the line of Durin now, for I hear their funeral is to be held tonight.” He looked at her directly. “Maybe when you have seen him entombed you will remember that he is merely mortal and will be dust and bones before you have even seen in your next century. How could such a paltry creature be a fitting companion for one of our kind? We can be on the road come morning, and head for Lothlorien?”

She swallowed, stung by his casual derision. “You wish to accompany me, away from Mirkwood? But your father will never allow it! He will have my head if you do this, Legolas! You know how powerful his anger can be!”

Legolas said nothing, and looked down the road. “It is true, what you say. For now. If you fear his wrath then you must go alone, for I would not see any harm come to you, Tauriel.”

“Yes, Legolas,” she said softly. “I must go alone.”

He stared at her, and grimaced. “We should still attend this funeral, Tauriel. It will be expected of me to be there, and I think it will do you some good to be there- to see how the mortal races die and rot away so quickly!”

She sighed. She did want to pay her respects to Thorin and Fíli, for whatever the respect of an elf like herself would even be worth to dwarves such as them. Yet she had wanted to stay away from confronting her part in this act of gross deception: burying the wrong body, depriving another dwarven family of a proper burial for their son, and stealing away Kíli from the company of his people forever. But it might raise suspicions if she did not attend with Legolas. He for one would certainly keep a closer eye on her, and she did not want him following her around this evening.

She nodded to her friend. “Yes, Legolas. Let’s go and watch these dwarves be buried. Maybe I will find some peace in knowing that they have found theirs.”

So the two Woodland elves started off in the direction of the Lonely Mountain, where the funeral of Thorin and his nephews would start at moonrise


	4. A Journey

The funeral had begun at moonrise, when the crimson moon had appeared in the East from across the plains. Bilbo had been invited, and despite the dark looks of the dwarves, several of the elven party had been allowed into the Lonely Mountain vaults as well. Deep inside the mountain, Bilbo had found himself in an eerily dark chamber, where his friend Thorin was laid out in full battle armour, an axe by his side. The two younger dwarves were laid out flanking their uncle, and Bilbo had found the scene too sombre and upsetting to witness for long. He had been eating breakfast with these people just this morning! They had all escaped Smaug and the fiery end he’d half expected to befall all of the company- only to be killed at their moment of triumph by an enemy he’d never foreseen. It did not feel fair or right to the hobbit. They should have been celebrating their victory tonight, not being buried!

His dwarven friends had been sad but respectfully silent inside the tomb, and he felt like he might be sullying the noble proceedings somewhat when a tear trickled down his cheek. Thorin looked so handsome and fierce, still so strong in his armour and braids, that Bilbo could not quite believe that he was dead. What if they were all still alive, just in a deep sleep? Fíli and Kíli looked young and beautiful, with a glow on their faces as if still living. They had all been dressed in such a way to hide their wounds, of course. And Bilbo knew better- he had watched all three of them die. He had seen it. And when he closed his eyes, he could see it happen again, and again. This war business really was horrid. He had lost all appetite for further exploration and adventure- there was nothing he wanted more right now than to be home in the Shire, where maybe those ghastly images of his dying friends would not haunt him.

He was glad when it was finally over. And as they all left the tomb, and made their way outside to watch now Dáin ascend into the mountain for his coronation, he looked around to gauge how his companions were faring. Gandalf was silent and solemn, with the bearing of someone who felt a sense of relief. The red-haired soldier elf, Tauriel, and her blond escort- the prince of Mirkwood himself- so Bilbo had realised, also made their way noiselessly along the great stone corridors. Bilbo could see that Tauriel had been weeping, although she looked serene enough now, and he wondered what exactly had been and gone between her and poor Kíli.

Some men also followed them up the endless sets of staircases. Bard led the way among his people, and Bilbo thought he looked tired and drained. What must he be thinking about the deaths of Thorin and his nephews. Maybe that if blind, stubborn Thorin had spent less time arguing with Bard’s people over the cursed treasure-horde, they would never have been surprised in battle the way they had been. And maybe Thorin and his nephews would be celebrating their finest hour instead of lying cold and dead on funerary slabs?

The other dwarves muttered things in Dwarvish to each other that Bilbo could not understand. They were speaking their own, private language, for once- and he had never heard it before. The words sounded to his ears like a running stream of long, drawn-out, baleful lamentations- interspersed with guttural, angry curses promising bloodthirsty revenge. Or maybe he was just imagining it. Whatever they were saying, he was glad to get outside into the fresh air.

And upon reaching the sweet air outside, he was just as surprised to spy a slender and pretty figure in a muddy blue dress scrambling up the road towards them. Dáin and his troop of burly dwarf retainers were nowhere in sight- for now. The girl seemed in some distress, and ran straight towards their party.

“Da’! Da’! I’ve been looking for you all ‘round the town, Da’!” she ran upto Bard, and into his outstretched arms.

“Sigga! What are you doing running around town without your cloak in the dark? Why are you all muddy?” He gripped her tighter. “Has something happened? Where are Tilda and Bain?”

She shook her head. “They’re fine, Da’, they’re at Mrs Murran’s house having supper. It’s Fíli, the dwarf- he’s alive! I found him in a cave, after the bird took me to him- the bird told me to follow him- and he needs a healer to come and help him now!”

Bard looked around the crowd of dwarves, cautiously. They had mostly not heard his daughter’s words, although Bofur was looking down on her rather sharply. The wizard was paying them no mind, although the two elves looked somewhat interested in the exchange. Bilbo looked at the muddy girl in her torn clothes, and wondered if she was alright herself.

“I’m sorry, Sigga. You’re mistaken. We have just committed that dwarf to his tomb, alongside his uncle and brother. He’s dead. He cannot be saved. Do you understand?”

Sigrid stared blankly back at him. This wasn’t the reaction she’d been expecting.

“But he’s in the cave! I saw him!”

Bard shook his head and gestured for her to stop. “I don’t know what you saw, Sigga. Did you say you’d been in a cave?? What have you been doing in the caves anyway? How could an injured dwarf- or anyone else for that matter- make it all the way through town, past all our healers, if they have been wounded in battle?”

She looked down at her feet. It was a good question, and she was at a loss to explain it herself.

“Sigga, I think you should pay a visit to the healers, and let them take a look at you. Where have you been, girl, you’re covered in mud and you’re freezing cold?” He hugged his daughter tight. “I’ve been worried about you all afternoon, I’m sorry I’ve been away!” He looked at her, seeing her confusion and worry. “Let’s take you to the healers, and get your head looked at, I should have left to find you hours ago...”

Bilbo saw the red-haired elf step forward and address Bard. “If you like, Bard, I will escort your daughter to the healer’s building, and see that she is looked after. The ceremonies here will not go on too much longer- you can then go home and see all of your children?”

Sigrid looked up at the elf, and recognised her as the one who had healed Kíli. Tauriel, her name was. She obviously had some healing powers herself. Maybe she could be convinced to come and help his brother now?

“Yes, Da’. I’ll go to the healers, but I don’t want to cause no trouble for you. You stay here, and I can go with the elf-lady?”

Bard turned round to Tauriel, a grateful look in his eyes. “Thank you, my lady. That would be very kind of you, if you don’t mind missing King Dáin’s coronation yourself?”

Tauriel turned to Legolas, who shrugged nonchalantly. “I will take your daughter, Bard. It is no trouble.”

Tauriel turned to Sigrid, and took her firmly by the hand. “Let’s go, child, before the King arrives.” She marched the girl back down the road towards Dale, and waited until they were out of earshot of even Legolas.

“Now, my child. You need to start at the beginning, and tell me everything. If there is someone who needs my help, you must take me to them right away! What happened?”

Sigrid nodded, relieved. “Yes, we need to go now, I will take you to Fíli and then you have to fix him!” She thought for a second. “But we should pick up supplies first. We’ll need candles, and blankets, and food, and all your medicine supplies! And we need to hurry!”

Tauriel was in agreement. It was going to be a long night, and she could not be late for her appointment with Thranduil’s priestess at the moon’s highpoint.

“So you are sure it is Fíli? You know you are talking about the royal dwarven prince, Sigrid? The dwarves have just buried him in the royal crypt inside the Lonely Mountain.”

Sigrid pouted in the dark. “I know which one Fíli is! He’s my friend, Tauriel! He promised me he would come back to see me, and I was so worried about him. I don’t know how he got into the cave, because he is badly hurt, I think.” She blinked away a tear forming in one of her eyes. “Maybe someone found him and brought him over the water in a boat, then went to find help themselves- I don’t know? Maybe those dwarves didn’t bury _him_ at all? Maybe it was just some other dwarf who looked like him! I don’t know. I only know what I saw...”

Tauriel had started squeezing Sigrid’s hand tighter, and the girl looked up in alarm. “What is it?”

Tauriel relaxed her grip. Could Thranduil have played some other trick somewhere along the evening, one she was not party to? If he had swapped Kíli for a enchanted dwarf, then he could have found a way of doing the same with Fíli, could he not? Could the girl be right?

“I think I have an idea of what may have happened, but I can’t be sure.” She looked seriously down at the girl. “Can you ride, child? If you are right about this, we need to hurry!”

“Yeah, I can ride. If you get all the supplies we need, I will fetch us a horse, and we can get there faster! I’ll meet you outside the healer’s hospital in a few minutes?”

Tauriel nodded her head in agreement. “Agreed, I will meet you there.” She was also worried now about the time, and about what had happened to Fíli, and about what would happen should Thranduil’s ruse be discovered. The sooner she had access to all the facts, the better it was going to go- for her and everyone else she cared about.

 

***   ***   ***

 

Sigrid managed to find a horse without much problem- she borrowed one from a friend of hers, whose older brother was a horse-breeder and had owned a stable full of large, strong carthorses. They had all survived the fire at Laketown, since his stable had always been on the sturdier ground of the mainland, and she had selected a chestnut coloured mare, with a wiry black mane, to be their steed on this cold and windy night.

The elf had collected a small basket of food and medicine, and had thought to bring several warm blankets and a new cloak for Sigrid too, so as she clung onto the Tauriel’s waist as the two of them flew through the night, she felt much warmer than she had done on her last journey, despite their speed against the wind.

When they reached the incline down to the lake they tethered the horse, and made their way down carefully to the lakeshore, down to the secluded, sheltered cave. Sigrid could see the crow watching them as they made their way inside, waiting its turn for their attention, apparently unmoved from whereas she had left it.

They entered inside, and Sigrid was relieved to find that Fíli was still there, untouched, his face warm again in her hands as she stroked him gently.

“See, Tauriel? It’s Fíli! I don’t know who you buried in the tomb, but this is _definitely_ Fíli, and he’s still alive!”

Tauriel could only agree, but there was no time for explanations right now. She could see the dwarf’s breath was shallow, and she needed to try to work some healing magic on him right away.

“Sigrid, I’ll need your help with this. Light me some candles, so we can see what we are doing, and see if you can get a fire on, with some water boiling in that kettle. I’m going to try to heal him with some magic, but we will need to wash his wounds and prepare him some poppy-tea for the pain. Do you know how to prepare this medicine?”

Sigrid’s eyes widened, but she nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, I can mix it. I’ll get started right away!” she reached into the basket and began lighting the candles. It felt better for her to be able to see Fíli in the light, after he’d lain all alone in darkness for so long. The moon was getting high in the sky now- she had been away longer than she had thought.

The elf sat still on the floor beside Fíli, and clutched his head in her hands, humming to herself. Her face creased into a frown and she began chanting her elvish spells, seeming to be in a trance herself. The girl watched hopefully, and managed to get a small fire going in the middle of the cave, on which she set the poppies to boil in the little copper kettle. She took out some of the loaf that Tauriel had brought, and threw some chunks out to the crow outside, not knowing what else she could do to thank it.

_“Kraaak!”_ The crow scurried across the ground, and tore into the bread she had put out for him. It made her smile to see the relish with which he seemed to eat the dry, stale bread. She wondered if they had brought enough – he ate so greedily.

Behind her, she heard movement, and someone gasping. She spun round to see Fíli was thrashing around wildly on the floor, still oblivious to everything around him. The elf was chanting loudly, her spell was reaching its crescendo. Sigrid dropped down to Fíli’s other side, trying as best she could to stop him from hitting at Tauriel, although she took a couple of blows to the ribs herself for her troubles.

At last his fit stilled, and he lay motionless again, still unconscious but now groaning in pain. Tauriel stopped her chanting, and opened her eyes to inspect him. Sigrid could see his body was shivering, his eyes flickering around behind the eyelids. She was horrified.

“Is he okay, Tauriel? What’s wrong with him?”

Tauriel scanned Fíli’s face, and checked his vital signs. “He is in pain, Sigrid. He has broken bones all over his body- his legs and arms are broken, and his ribs are cracked. They should heal though- I think he should be able to walk again, once the bones have reset.” She frowned. “He was in a coma when I started the healing, and if I hadn’t broken him out he would have died. But I have broken it now, I think. He should be fine. Really, he will live!” She saw Sigrid hanging on her every word, eyes desperate.

“But you said he’s in pain? How can we make it stop, Tauriel?” she wailed.

Tauriel looked to the fire. “Has the poppy-tea started to thicken yet? Bring it to me when it has and we can try to give him some relief. He is going to need a lot of this prepared for him over the next few weeks, Sigrid. Once he wakes up it will be worse for him, I am afraid.” She looked at the girl, and felt relief for her. “But he will live, Sigrid. These are not life-threatening injuries anymore.”

Sigrid smiled to herself. “Fíli is going to live?”

Tauriel smiled back. “Yes, he is.” Her face darkened. “But I do not know whether his brother will live. I do not know whether I should tell you this, Sigrid, but I have to ask you a favour.”

Sigrid shook her head. “But you said you buried his brother? How could he live?”

Tauriel looked at her seriously. “You will keep a secret? For me? Please?” Sigrid nodded carefully.

“What if I told you that the dwarf that was buried in Kíli’s place was not Kíli at all. What if it was another dwarf- just some other young dwarf who died in battle today- and King Thranduil secretly enchanted him with a glamour spell to make him resemble Kíli.”

Sigrid thought for a second, and frowned. “Why would he do that?”

The elf sighed. “He exchanged the real Kíli for the false one, and took Kíli away.” She lowered her eyes at Fíli, still quivering beside her. “He said there might be a way to bring him back from the dead, Sigrid, but I had to keep it secret and not let the dwarves know.”

“But why not? They would surely be happy? Maybe he could do the same for Thorin too, and bring them both back?”

Tauriel shook her head. “I do not know why he has offered to do this. But it is not to help the dwarves- he hates Thorin and the kings of Durin- and he hates Kíli and Fíli too! It is not good intentions driving this, I fear. I think he just wants to ensure I am removed from his son’s life. You see, his son, Legolas- the heir to the throne of Mirkwood- has been my friend for a long time. And Thranduil is convinced that his son is in love with me- even though he would never allow us to marry- and he is worried about his Legolas...”

“And you love Kíli. So if he’s not dead, then you can marry him? And then his son will have to marry someone else?” Sigrid sounded puzzled. “But what has Fíli got to do with this? Why would Thranduil help him? Do you think it was him that brought Fíli over here after the battle?”

“I do not know, Sigrid. I wish I could see how they are connected, but I cannot. I do not trust Thranduil, and I can only hope this is not all a trick of his. For all I know this ritual is just some way he can kill me off quietly!”

“A ritual?” whispered Sigrid. “What ritual?”

Tauriel pointed outside to the moon. “When the moon reaches the zenith, I am to meet Thranduil and a priestess he employs. They are supposed to use me in a ritual that...that will somehow bring him back to me. I should really go now and prepare myself for it! There is not much time left.”

“And what does it involve, Tauriel? Are you going to be back soon? What will I do if Fíli wakes up and you’re not here?” She looked alarmed.

Tauriel smiled grimly. “I wish I could say, Sigrid, but I do not know when I shall return.” She decided not to add the clause, ‘or if I shall return’, since the girl looked nervous enough already. Poor thing, thought Tauriel, she’s hardly much more than a child, and now I have burdened her with all this.

She continued.“But if Fíli wakes up, feed him some poppy-tea. Try and get him to eat, it will help his strength. And keep him warm- make sure to keep the fire going.” She regarded the moon gravely. “I must go now. The moon will soon be at its zenith, and I have some distance round the lake to travel, to find the spot he arranged!”

Tauriel stood, hunching slightly in the small cave. Sigrid jumped to her feet too, and gave her a tight embrace. “Thank you for helping him, Tauriel! I hope you are back soon- and I hope you come back with Kíli! Be careful with your elf King though, don’t put yourself in any danger!”

Tauriel hugged the girl back, and forced a laugh. “I will be back before you know it, you sweet-hearted girl.” She glanced outside at the stormy, cold night, and corrected herself. “I mean to say, _we_ will be both be back soon...” And without turning around she strode out into the wild night, a thick cloak swirling around her in the wind in the moonlight.

Sigrid checked the tea, and rearranged herself beside Fíli. She greatly wanted him to wake up, but was scared she wouldn’t be able to help him if he did. She took hold of one of his hands, squeezed it, and settled down into a ball of worry, lit only by the small campfire and the silvery moonlit sky.


	5. A Midnight Rite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With apologies to any folklorists! I kinda stole some ideas here from an old Scottish Borders ballad called Tam Lin. The song recounts how one Halloween night, a girl called Janet rescues her true love, Tam Lin, from the clutches of the sinister Fairy Queen in Carterhaugh Forest. The original (in Scottish verse) is much better! :)

The wind was stronger now, and clouds were blowing quickly across the sky, flickering the moonlight on and off as Tauriel made her way around the lake. She could see easily in the dark though, even without the moonlight, but the ground was quite treacherous in places, with large boulders strewn across the shore, and patches of flat, glistening sand that she did not want to tread on, so it seemed to her the trek was taking a painfully long time. And all the time the moon climbed higher.

She reflected on what she had told Sigrid, and realised it was true. She did not trust the Elven king, and this could well turn out to be an ambush she was not going to be walking back from. And in that case, she thought grimly, she hoped the girl had enough sense to keep Fíli safe and keep him away from both the dwarves and elves. Had she said enough to impress the urgent secrecy of it onto her? Sigrid seemed clever though, and resourceful- she was certainly going to do all she could to protect Fíli- so Tauriel concluded she had left them both safe enough for now.

And what about Kíli? She felt a panic clutch her chest whenever she thought about him, which seemed to be every couple of heartbeats. What if Thranduil was, in fact, telling the truth and she could still save him? This time tomorrow, was she going to be holding his hand, staring into his eyes and telling him that- yes, she loved him too, and she was sorry she had not been strong enough to admit it to him earlier by the lake? Or was she going to fail him, again? And then she would be alone forever, and he would be dead forever, and once more it would only be her to blame.

She clenched her fists beside her as she walked along, thinking. _I must focus, and not fail him again then!_

After what felt like an age- yet also far sooner than she would have liked- she found herself on the far side of the lake from the Lonely Mountain, beside a river and the remains of a ruined pier. And there beside the pier, a tall pair of blond elves stood facing into a burning fire, their backs towards her, waiting silently.

So maybe there is no ambush after all? She thought fervently. Maybe this is real, and I can really save him!

As she walked towards them, curious now, she saw with a jolt that Kíli was there with them too. She paused midstride and looked at him, and her breath froze in her chest. He was lying at the far end of the pier on his back, his long black hair unbraided, and blowing freely in the wind. He had been stripped of all his clothes, and strange markings and symbols had been drawn in red and black all over his naked body. But the worst aspect was the last she noticed: his hands were tied together at the wrists in front of him with a length of cord, which looked to be attached to a block of iron, sitting beside him on the pier.

She shivered. It was a horrible sight. What were all those witch marks on him? What was she doing here?

The two elves turned to face her, and she saw that one was Thranduil. He had taken off his favoured regal robes, and was wearing a white tunic- the same design as that of the female elf beside him. She was platinum blond like most of the Mirkwood elves, though Tauriel had never seen her before- she would have remembered seeing an elf so strikingly beautiful. But the eyes of the elven priestess were closed, and when she opened them, Tauriel saw her eyes were strangely colourless- paler and closer to white in the irises than even an albino’s eyes. It was an uncanny effect, like staring into the cold, lunar light of the moon, and Tauriel felt uncomfortable in her gaze.

Thranduil smiled at her thinly. “It is good of you to come, Tauriel. And good of you to have kept these dealings a secret from the dwarves. I always trusted that you would do what was sensible, this time round.”

She found her voice, and broke away from the Elf-witch’s gaze. “Thank you, my King. I have followed your instructions, and I am ready to do whatever it is you command me to do, in order to bring Kíli back to life.”

Thranduil looked to the priestess, and she laughed. Her laugh had a cold edge to it, reminding Tauriel of the sound that the ice-needles made when they fell and cracked in the forests during the melting season. “I cannot bring the dead back to life, my child! This magic will only work because he is not yet entirely dead. Some life-force lingers in the body for a full day, and sometimes, under certain circumstances, we can use certain attributes to draw the rest of the life-force back towards it in the body, and tie it there with magic.”

Tauriel wanted to know more. “What circumstances? What attributes do you mean?”

The priestess lightened her gaze, and regarded Tauriel appraisingly. “There is one major circumstance here that works in your lover’s favour.” She laughed again. “He is mortal, and you are not! And this is a rather rare thing that means you can freely consent to use your immortal life to strengthen his mortal one, and keep him in this world.”

Tauriel nodded. That seemed the same as what Thranduil had already implied, but why was this not a common ritual? Elves were stupidly falling in love with mortals all the time, and she had never heard of this working before.

“The second attribute you have is that your love is real and pure- you have not so much as kissed him yet, have you child?”

Tauriel blushed a little, and hoped it was not obvious in the darkness. How could they possibly know that?

“And the third attribute has nothing to do with you at all, and everything to do with this night.” The smile left the priestess’ face and she stared right through Tauriel with her bright, white eyes. “The moon is full. And when the moon is full, the tides of life are strong and mobile. This powerful spell is a reflection of the moon, and the arrangement of the waters, for when the moon is full the force of life is able to surge over the normal barriers in space and time, and do what the ignorant call _unnatural things_.”

Tauriel shuddered, and looked up at the moon. Cold and remote, it bored down on her, and she imagined she felt some unearthly tug deep within her psyche.

“What do I need to do then?” she whispered.

Thranduil stepped closer and waved at her clothes. “You should take these off, Tauriel. It will be better for you later on if you do.”

Tauriel looked to the priestess, and she nodded. “You will not be cold. Do not be afraid. Undress yourself and come and stand by the fire now.”

She did as commanded, and left her clothes in a small pile at her feet. Her weapons belt was the hardest thing to leave behind- she only felt truly naked without her sword by her side. She walked towards the fire, and saw Thranduil turn and walk down the pier, towards where Kíli’s body was lying. She saw the king sidle up, and slowly push the iron weight off the side of the pier with his foot, and as Kíli was dragged off the side and under the water, she nearly choked.

The priestess was watching her with pursed lips. “It is upto you to save him now, Tauriel. Nobody else can help him, and though you know the price you must pay for this yourself, your way to bring his life-force back will not be easily given.” The priestess gave her a sly smile. “Bringing life into this world is never an easy thing.”

“I know, I have been warned that it would be hard. But I will not fail him! What must I do, my lady?”

The priestess held out her hands. “Take this is your hands, Tauriel, and do not let it go.” She opened her left hand to reveal a ball of wet sand, and handed it to Tauriel. “Do not let it go, whatever happens.” With her right hand, she dropped a white powder into the fire, and raised her hands to the sky. “Now stare into the flames, Tauriel, and let the visions take you with them. No matter what you see in these flames, do not let go of what I have given you. Do not let go of what you hold in your hands no matter what happens. This is all I can say. Look into the flames, and let the visions come into you.”

The priestess began a low chant, staring into the fire herself, and Tauriel tried to look as deeply into the flames as she could, waiting for her visions. For a long while nothing happened, and she could feel the ball of wet sand warming and cracking between her fingers, almost falling out at the sides, and she held it up in front of her, to keep from spilling any of it. The fire warmed her bare skin up, and soon Tauriel thought there was a red mist emanating from the flames, surrounding her and the priestess, and thickening all around her.

Before her eyes, the flames disappeared- the lakeshore disappeared- and she was standing in a forest- her own forest- Mirkwood!

The sun filtered through the trees lazily, but around her she could hear shouting and commotion. There was fighting going on. She was under attack. She was back in the battle with the spiders again. She felt something surge in her hands and realised in disgust she was holding onto a small, pulsating spider. It clawed at her face with its slimy, black legs, and struggled to bite her hands, and she felt for a moment that she should hurl it against the trees, but checked herself on the upswing- she was not to let go, the priestess had warned her- she had to hang on and let this vision run its course.

But then she saw him- it was Kíli! The spider was at his feet, poised to bite. “Kíli, hang on!” She felt her daggers at her side, and was ready to drop her burden and grab them, but as she felt the spider slipping through her hands she thought better of it, and caught a tighter hold of the evil thing.

She heard as Kíli screamed, the spider biting him, “Help, someone! Help me!” And she felt tears in her eyes, as she watched him die for a second time that day. “Kíli, no...” she cried, but then a bright whiteness flooded her vision, and a rushing sound filled her ears, and she lost sight of him in the light.

Then there was something else. It was water. Rushing all around her. She was standing in a river, the water upto her neck, watching a band of orcs closing in on a small troop of dwarves on the river outside her Elven home. She had something in her hands- a squirming, cold creature, and it was trying to escape her grip. A fish, she realised, and I need to hang onto it this time. She struggled to keep hold of the slippery creature in the river’s strong current, and felt herself losing her balance in the water, and being pulled downstream. With water splashing over her face, she saw him again. She saw Kíli shot down with an arrow, as he tried to open a sluice gate on the weir. As he fell, she promised herself that this time she would hang onto the fish! No letting go. _It’s just a vision, Tauriel_ , she told herself, _it isn’t really Kíli you’re seeing_. _You saved him from this, remember?_

But then she felt herself dragged under by the current, and downstream, and she lost sight of him. She couldn’t swim in the river, or she would lose the fish, so she struggled underwater, fighting to reach the surface without using her hands- fighting to catch a breath of air at the surface- but the current was overwhelming her.

Out in the middle of the stream, she could feel herself choking under the water. She needed to breathe, but she couldn’t let go of the writhing fish- she wouldn’t! She tried to slowly exhale some of the pressure building in her lungs, but a sudden change of current slammed her against a rock, knocking the wind out of her, and pinning her underwater without an escape. Inhaling the water, she felt herself panicking. She was breathing, but there was no air coming into her lungs, just cold water. She was drowning- but still she would not let go of the fish! Feeling herself on the verge of blacking out, the whiteness again flooded her mind, and the vision went blank.

And then it seemed she could breathe again! And so she took in big gulps of air, filling her lungs, realising she was holding onto something heavy this time. She looked down, and this time saw a sword in her hands. At least this was more like it! She clutched it in both hands as a roar forced her to spin round, and get her bearings. She was in Laketown- or a vision of it anyway- she was in the street, hemmed in by tall buildings on either side, with Kíli standing behind her. He was pointing upto the sky, shouting something, so she looked up and saw the dragon Smaug had returned. It was flying down the street, towards them both.

“Run!” she screamed at Kíli, but he didn’t seem to hear, he just froze in horror, as the dragon at their backs began to breath fire on the street behind them, enveloping everything in its path in a ball of flame. She could feel the oncoming heat already, as the dragon approached them. She gestured to Kíli. “Come on, get into the water!” She tugged on his shirt with a free hand, but he just looked at her in fear. “Tauriel...” he began.

But then the world turned red, and the inferno reached them. She felt a searing heat tearing through her skin, her hair, and she watched as Kíli vanished in the glowing flames around her. She wanted to scream but her throat was on fire, and in her hands her sword was molten red, glowing hot and melting her skin where she held it. The pain was unbearable, but she gripped the searing metal closer to her, determined not to be defeated by this new torment. When she thought she could stand it no more, and was finally going to be overcome through the agony, she awoke to a soothing white light, with the flames had vanished.

She was lying on her back under a cool grey sky, and the pain was gone. Her sword had seemingly reformed into her agile throwing-dagger, and she rolled over onto her side to try to rise to her feet. With shock, she knew immediately where she was, and the vision that had replayed itself in her mind’s eye all afternoon was suddenly all around her- really happening all around her again. Azog had Kíli in his grasp, and was leering down at him, squeezing him, hurting him, letting him know he was beaten.

“No, don’t! Please!” she was crying, as Kíli’s brown eyes met hers steadily, as he prepared himself silently for the coming death blow. How many times was she going to have to watch him die today?

But she had her dagger in her hand- maybe if she could aim it true and catch Azog on the head, she could still save him? She jumped to her feet.

“No, you musn’t!” she whispered to herself. “This has already happened. You can’t stop it. You have to hold onto what you have in your hands right now, and ignore this vision!”

As Azog stabbed his blade right through Kíli it was her that screamed, and she staggered backwards and lost her balance. She was flying through air now, falling off a cliff, falling to the ground. She started putting her hand out to brace herself for the crushing fall, but held fast to her dagger, and closed her eyes to this horrible vision. As she thought she hit the ground she felt a brief, crushing pain, and then the whiteness returned to her eyes, giving her another blessed relief.

And when she opened her eyes again, she was in bed. Lying there in the gloom with a blanket in her hands, comfy, warm, and safe in her own Woodland bed. She tested her muscles, and was glad to find that everything seemed to work properly after the fall. She relaxed in the bed, opening her eyes when she heard someone start to walk softly across the floorboards towards her.

It was Kíli, he was coming to bed, she could feel his warmth approaching her, and smell his spicy, masculine scent drawing near.

She smiled up at him. “Hello, my love. Are you coming into bed?” And she snuggled back down in the covers, closing her eyes. Were the visions over? Was she already home? She sighed as she felt his hand stroke her cheek, and another hand cradle her shoulder, stroking her body upwards towards her neck. She relaxed her grip a little on the sheets, then changed her mind. Something was not right. She did not remember Kíli coming out of the lake. This was not her home. And so this could not be Kíli, although it looked like him. She was still hallucinating, and she must not let go of the blanket in her hands, whatever happened! Those gentle hands she felt caressing her face suddenly tightened round her neck, and she felt a surge of fright, as they started squeezing.

“No, Kíli, stop! Please...” she tried to reason with him- but he stood there motionless, squeezing the breath out of her, as she tried to fight against him without the use of her hands. It was futile. Was he going to watch as she died this time? Was he going to kill her?

She flopped around under the sheets like a dying fish, wheezing for air, tears in her eyes, and the iron grip around her neck tightening all the time. She was seeing stars now, and she knew it wouldn’t be long until it was over.

She couldn’t remember quite what she was doing here anymore, was there a plot to kill her? Was Thranduil choking her right now on the beach tight now, or was it the person she loved most in the world murdering her silently in her bed? She didn’t know anymore. She didn’t know where she was, or what was happening. She couldn’t fight it anymore. She just kept gripping the sheets around her, and let her hold go on the world around her.

And then she was enveloped in a shimmering, airy white glow- full of light and full of life- until she began to see flames in front of her once more. White flames, that danced and glittered on the moonlit shoreline.

And in the flickering of the white flames, she heard a voice in front of her. “Throw it in the water now, Tauriel, throw it in the lake!”

She scanned around her, and realised she was back in her body, back on the beach, back in the real world. She opened her hand to see she was holding a heavy, white powder, and she understood she had to cast it into the waters. She glanced into the priestess’ moonbeam eyes, and ran towards the lake. When she was upto her knees in the cold, silvery water, she lobbed her handful of white dust as far into the lake as she could, and watched it scatter on the wind and fall beneath the waters, glinting with primary colours in the moonlight like her favourite stars.

The priestess called her back to the fire, “Tauriel, come here!” And she trudged back to the fire, exhausted. The Elven-witch smiled at her softly. “Well done, my child. You proved to be as strong as your love is for him, and so the moon has decided you should be united once more in life.”

Tauriel dropped to her knees in the sand, spent. “Where is he, my lady? Where’s Kíli!?”

The priestess reached from her behind her, and pulled a white knife out from a sheath at her back. “He is in the lake, Tauriel, because the magic needed both the moonlight and water to work. But now he is alive, and I am afraid you must bring him back to shore before he drowns!”

She handed Tauriel the knife, and with a cry of anguish, the warrior-elf was on her feet, bounding back towards the lake.

He was at the end of the pier, that’s where they put him in. He must be there now, on the bottom... She hoped and prayed that the lake was not deep around here, and that she would find him in the black waters. She ran along the pier, diving headlong off the pier and into the freezing water.

It was so dark around her, but even under the waves the moonlit broke through in rays. Scanning the bottom, she saw movement in the corner of her eye, and saw him right below her, struggling to break free from his bond and breathe at the surface.

_I will save you this time!_ And this time, she knew it was true. She swam down to him, and with a single slice of the knife she cut the cord tying him to the anchor, cutting the bonds between his hands, and grabbed him upwards to the air. As they broke through the surface together, she saw that he has lost conscious, and she took his small form in her arms and swum him to the shore, collapsing beside him in a sodden pile at the waterline.

Once safely out of the lake, fatigue almost overpowered her, but she felt a pair of strong arms pick her up and carry her over towards the fire. A blanket was draped over her, and she saw Kíli wrapped up in a cloak beside her, his eyes shut, out cold.

“I thought you said it had worked!” She cried. “Is he alive?”

From behind her, Thranduil spoke, and she realised he had carried them both from the water’s edge. “Yes, Tauriel. He is alive. You brought him back, and now he sleeps.”

Her teeth almost chattered, and she felt cold. “Is he breathing? When will he wake up?”

The priestess answered her this time. “He will wake up soon, my child. Do not worry. Warm yourself by the fire and relax. The ritual is over, and so is your ordeal. Now all that remains is for you to keep what you have seen secret from those that Thranduil has warned you of.”

She looked up at him. He had helped them out of the water, why?

“I know you do not trust my intentions, Tauriel. And you are quite wise to do so. I am not generally someone to be mindlessly trusted. But everything I have done, I have done to keep you and my son happy.”

She opened her mouth, but was unsure of what to say. “What about Fíli? Did you save him too? Like this?”

Thranduil looked at her sternly. “You must impress upon that dwarf, and the one you have in your arms too, that they can never go back to their old lives again! As far as history is concerned, Thorin Oakenshield and his heirs and nephews all died and were buried today, and there ends the line of Durin. They will need to adopt new names, new identities, new everything!”

“So why did you help us?”

He turned to face her. “As a matter of fact, that other brother was not of my own saving. It’s true I heard he had been rescued, and when I heard the rescuers’ identities I knew certain actions must follow- and I saw to it that they did follow.” He gazed up at the moon, and looked suddenly aggrieved.

“Do you know, the night my wife died there was no moon, Tauriel. No moon. No way to save her. And I would have died a thousand time to save her!”

He turned his back on her, and rejoined his priestess.

She realised he was preparing to leave. “Thank you, Thranduil. Thank you for doing this for us! After everything I have said to you, I am sorry for offending you. Thank you- from both of us!” She looked over at Kíli, lying beside her, and had to resist the urge to touch him to make sure he was real and alive.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow at her under the moonlight, in acknowledgement. And turned to walk into the darkness.

“Oh, Thranduil, I’m sorry- but who did you mean actually rescued Fíli then? Do you know how he came to be in the cave?”

The King of Mirkwood turned round a final time to her, a sly smile on his lips. “Would you believe me, Tauriel, if I told you a swarm of ravens carried him there from Ravenhill? All at the behest of a crow, apparently. But maybe you should talk to Bard’s oldest daughter about that, I believe she might know more about it than you think.” And with that, he and his priestess disappeared into the scrub line, and she was left alone with Kíli.

“Kíli,” she knelt beside him, and stroked his lips with her finger. She could feel his breath against her skin, and her heart soared. He was alive! She had saved him! She drew herself up against him, to keep them both warm, and planted a soft kiss against his lips. Beneath her, she heard him sigh.

“Tauriel?” Kíli opened his brown eyes, and looked around in confusion.

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe now.” She reached under his cloak, and held his hand in hers. “You’re on the beach. With me. The battle is over.” There was more she needed to tell him, but it could wait.

He looked sleepily over at her. “I dreamt I died, and you saved me.” He squeezed her hand. “What happened?”

She looked into his beautiful face, and marvelled at how peaceful he looked. After all the times she’d watched him die today, all she wanted to do was gaze upon his living face, and feel his body next to her- and maybe sleep sometime too. “It’s true,” she said, “I saved you again. It looks like it’s become a habit of mine now- I think I’ll be doing it for the rest of my life.” She laughed.

He looked at her seriously. “I would love you to spend the rest of your life with me, Tauriel. Are you saying you want to?”

She leaned over, and kissed him on the lips. It began softly, but there was a hunger that rose within them both, and their kiss became more passionate and urgent, until she broke away. “I want to spend my entire life with you, Kíli. I love you.” He clutched her damp red hair as she whispered her words into his ear.

“Marry me then, Tauriel. Let me be your husband.” He kissed her neck, and she sighed in pleasure.

“Kíli, I need to tell you some things. They’re important. You might not- ” she broke off, as he started to kiss deeper into her throat, and she could feel his hands gripping her body through the blanket she wore.

“Just say yes, Tauriel.” He fixed her with his dark, brown solemn eyes. “There’s nothing as important as what I need to do to you right now.” He gave her a husky smile. “I love you too, darling.” And she felt his hands slide under the blanket, over her body, as his mouth kissed her shoulders, her neck, her breasts. She felt she was going to burst with pleasure, and she suddenly needed something too, right now, on the beach. He stared wide into her eyes, as he gently parted her legs, and drew himself up between her.

“What do you say, darling?” And he kissed her mouth, and her neck, and it felt so good she moaned, and she whispered in his ear “Yes, Kíli, yes...” And as she felt him gently put himself inside of her, she heard him crying out.

“Yes, Kíli... yes!” She cried out herself as he rocked harder and faster with her, and the two of them lost themselves in each other’s bodies and bliss, while the moon arced high in the sky above them.


	6. Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to anyone reading this- I know I haven't updated for ages! Too much college work, not enough time... :( It's my final year so I need to actually study it up: my dissertation has been a total nightmare!! But that's what Christmas holidays are for, I guess :) This story is pretty much done now, so I'll finish posting this by next week!

**Chapter Six**

 

The day was fully broken when they both woke up, still wrapped around each other under the blankets. Tauriel woke first, but didn’t want to move away from Kili’s warm body, and step out into the breeze beyond their peaceful, little sanctuary. It was only after he opened his eyes and hugged her closer with a sleepy smile, that she turned her thoughts away from the mad night behind them and onto the coming day.

He whispered to her. “Tauriel, you’re still here. I thought I must be dead and dreaming about you, last night...” He sat himself up from the blankets, and took her hand in his. He raised his eyebrows theatrically. “And we really don’t have any clothes on do we?” He checked her face for her reaction, and when she smiled back at him, he grinned.

His grin turned suddenly worried, and he swallowed thickly. “Did you mean it? When you said you loved me?”

She stared into his eyes. “Yes. I do love you. But there are things you should know.”

He nodded, thinking. “What happened to me? I remember ... things. Things like...” He trailed off in alarm, his eyes widening in fear. “Fili!” He looked at her in panic. “They killed him! Did they kill him? Is he alive!?”

She sat up and put her arms around him. “Yes, he’s alive.” She looked into his eyes, and tried to reassure him. “Your brother was hurt badly, Kili, but he’s alive. And he’s going to be fine. I will take you to him, and you can see for yourself.”

He calmed somewhat, and recovered himself. “And Thorin?” His voice was hopeful, but then he saw her face drop.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

He gasped in grief, and she pulled him tighter. “What happened to him?”

She took a deep breath. “He was killed by Azog. That awful monster. Just an unlucky blow, I heard. Your uncle had his revenge though- and he took Azog with him.” Tauriel took his face in her hands. “You uncle went after him for revenge, for your family’s honour! It was Azog that tried to kill your brother... “ she didn’t know how to explain the rest to him. “And it was Azog that killed... you, my love...”

He looked at her blankly. “Killed me?”

She dropped her hands from his face, and wrung them together in front of her, desperate to find the right words. “He killed you, I watched him do it. I couldn’t stop him...” She could feel tears building up in her eyes, and she couldn’t look at him, didn’t want to see if he might be angry with her. “I couldn’t take it, Kili. I couldn’t take the pain when I lost you! And Thranduil, my King in Mirkwood, told me that he had a sorceress, who could bring you back...”

She couldn’t read the emotion in his voice. “What did you do?”

“We performed a ritual, last night, they told me... they told me I could give you my immortal elven life, and become mortal like you, and that you would live again!” She outlined the events of the ritual to him, and the consequences it brought for both of them. He made no response, while she explained.

“He said it has to stay secret, Kili. He will kill us both if any of your people find out.”

“And what about my brother?”

She shook her head. “They cannot know about him either. I am sorry. I know it’s not fair to either of you, and I know you might be angry with me for this- you have a right to be!-” She stopped, feeling his arms around her shoulders.

“Hey, shh,” He was stroking his fingers through her hair. “It’s okay. I’m not angry with you! I’m just confused. I’m thinking.” She felt herself exhale deeply, and relaxed into his arms. “I can hardly believe all this, is all.” He looked into her teary, green eyes, and smiled gently. “Is this the third time you’ve saved my life, Tauriel? And- you’ve given up your own immortality to do it? And been banished from your people? And it’s all been for me?” He raised his eyebrows and bit his lip. “I don’t know how I can ever make this up to you!”

She laughed, in relief. He seemed to be taking the news of his death, reincarnation and own metaphorical banishment quite well. Kili pondered for a moment. “You know, if you do let me marry you, I am sure I will be able to think of a way!” He grinned, and brought his face close to hers. “I could show you now if you like?”

He kissed her deeply, and she could not resist him. He kissed her harder, forcing her gently to the ground, and his hands were caressing her shoulders, then her breasts, then her hips, while his mouth kissed her neck, and his tongue teased her, and she found she was clenching her eyes shut and calling his name, as his warm breath travelled lower down her body.

And by the time he had finished with her, she was sure he’d made it up several times over.

***   ***   ***

Fili could sense the light behind his eyes before he opened them. He could feel it’s ghastly pallor pricking at his forehead, along with all the other white-hot needles of pain all over his body. He lay as still as he could, and willed the foggy blackness to overtake him again, and give him solace from the shooting, dizzying, grinding aches that stung him whenever he took a breath.

He opened an eye tentatively, and saw a bright, watery light at the end of a black, rolling tunnel wall. There was a bird there, in the light. A big black bird. A crow. It was... looking at him, moving its beak and fixing its beady eyes on him. Was he dead? Was this a messenger come to take him to the halls of the dead?

_Kraaaw!_

But the dead aren’t supposed to feel pain, he thought bitterly. So where am I?

He felt a hand on his shoulder beside him, and struggled to orient his eyes into the dark, and see who was there. The voice was coming from the darkness of the tunnel, and he couldn’t see. He gave up trying and shut his eyes.

“Fili, don’t move. Lie still! Here, I have some medicine for you, for the pain. Open your mouth, I think I’d better give it to you in the spoon!”

He tried to speak, but even he couldn’t understand the noises that were produced. He opened his mouth slowly, painfully, and felt some kind of sweet, milky liquid inside his mouth, and tried to swallow it down before it choked him. Several more spoonfuls followed, and then he could move no more. He groaned, and screwed his eyes shut, willing the disembodied voice and its spoon away.

But his breathing didn’t feel so laboured now, and he felt a lot less heavy and sore. He felt rather floaty, in fact, and within a few deep breaths he returned to the silent darkness, and his troubled thinking ceased.

***   ***   ***

 

Sigrid watched as Fili’s small form settled back down to rest, and replaced the spoon in the medicine kettle. Tauriel had been right! He was alive. But he obviously couldn’t move- didn’t she say he’d broken lots of bones? Whatever could have happened to him? How could she undo it? He needed someone to reset the bones, and plaster them, and the sooner the better for him. But she didn’t want to move him, lest she damaged him further. He couldn’t seem to be able to move his neck, and she was concerned she might twist his spine and paralyse him. She needed to wait for Tauriel to return, the elf would know what to do.

By Fili’s other side, the crow stood watch. He had flown in sometime when she’d dozed off in the night, and she’d awoken to find him staring down at the dwarf, with an air of intense curiosity. He seemed almost like a child, the way he watched and stared- and soundlessly remembered. She had the notion in her mind that he could understand what she said as well, although she knew that must be impossible.

Maybe an experiment was called for? After all, she had nothing else to do, while Fili’s mind was still six feet under.

“Crow?” she said uncertainly. She felt like a fool, saying it out loud.

The crow immediately struck her with its gaze and tilted its head- almost affectionately- to the side.

“Kraaaw?” It asked.

Sigrid shrugged helplessly. “I know you’ve been a really good bird, you’ve really helped my friend here- watching over him- and taking me to find him!- and I know I’ve only really got bread to pay you back with... but I wondered if you would maybe help me again, Crow?”

“Kraaw!” It agreed.

This was almost like having a real conversation, she thought, excited all of a sudden. He does understand me, I’m sure of it!

“My friend here needs a healer to set his bones straight, and I don’t know how long my elf friend will be! If you could- I wondered- if you could find someone in Dale, someone who can heal people? – and bring them here like you brought me?- I would be ever so grateful to you, Crow!”

The crow considered. There was perhaps one in the town who could be persuaded- who had been helpful before. The bird-friend was worried about her dwarf-man, he could see that- and she had reason to be. The young dwarf was in terrible pain, it was obvious. If he had not been a friend of the dear, sweet bird-friend, he would have torn out the dwarf’s throat himself, and released him from his suffering.

“Kraak-kaw kaaargh!” he decided, and bowed a little to show he meant it.

Sigrid took this for an agreement, and clapped her hands together in delight. “Thank you, Mr Crow! I will give you all the food you’ll ever want if you do this for us!”

The crow nodded graciously, and spun round and jumped up in a flash of feathers, and flew out of the cave. She watched him leave, still smiling, and then stooped to stroke Fili’s damp, clammy forehead. She wiped his face with a damp scrap of cloth, and made sure there was still plenty of poppy-tea left in the little, copper kettle.

***   ***   ***

Back in Dale, Bilbo was pacing around in a large, sunlit courtyard. There was a small part of him that could recognise how beautiful it was in the surroundings, with ivy growing over the crumbling walls and colunnades, and birds chirruping in little trees growing up out of paving cracks. But the larger part of him was just restless to leave, and set off for home- the ruined beauty of the town was no longer as enchantingly lovely as it had been. Not without his friend, Thorin, and all the jokes they’d shared, and their magical, exotic quest for gold and dragons.

It had all been so exciting, to get swept up in! He had never thought anyone could get seriously hurt- except for maybe him perhaps- but not the others, not his friends. They were warriors, after all. People wrote down legends about fighters like them! And in those legends- all his favourite, childhood ones, anyway- those fighters never died! They performed heroic deeds that chased away the monsters from under children’s beds, and then they lived happily ever after in fairytale castles.

Maybe it was ridiculous. But it wasn’t fair for them to die!

Earlier on that morning, he had said goodbye to all of his dwarf friends- the ones who were still alive, that is- and was now waiting on Gandalf to reemerge from yet another meeting with local dignitaries and take him home, finally. The small amount of gear he had brought with him had been packed away, he had put away a good two breakfasts, and now he wanted to escape the desolate shadow of the Lonely Mountain once and for all.

He stopped his pacing at the sound of approaching voices, and saw Gandalf heading towards him with Bard in tow. He blinked to make sure his eyes weren’t tricking him. No, they were working fine- there looked to be a big, black crow sitting on Gandalf’s left shoulder. Odd. He had never struck Bilbo as being much of a nature-lover before- not unless the nature in question involved herbs and horticulture, obviously...

Bilbo noticed the other man appeared distressed. “Bain said she didn’t come back all night though. And she said something last night about the caves? You know, when she nearly upset all those dwarves with her chattering! She must’ve gone out that way, back to the caves. I can’t think why else she could be missing all night!”

Gandalf was sympathetic. “Of course you can ride with us, Bard. When we get to the cave area, we will help you look for her. Do remember that she was accompanied by Tauriel, an elf soldier- she would not let any harm come to your daughter.”

Bilbo’s ears pricked up at this. Thinking about it, he hadn’t seen the girl since last night either, and now it sounded like she was missing? He hoped she was alright. She was only a young thing, kind, defenceless, and pretty.

And Bard didn’t deserve to have his heart broken either, any more than the rest of them had.


	7. Later

Fili stirred, and gently woke. He could hear singing. A woman’s voice, soothing and bright, singing words in a language he didn’t know. He opened his eyes to find the source of the song, and was met by a haze of dazzling golden light, warm and soft on his skin.

The sun, he thought. It must be daytime.

Blinking slowly, his vision started to clear, and he could make out a girl standing in sunshine outside, her hair glinting as she moved around, natural and free in front of a strip of blue water. She was singing her melody and gathering wood from the beach, unselfconscious, young and beautiful. Fili watched, entranced, and when she turned and began walking towards him, he realised that he knew her. It was Sigrid. The girl from Laketown.

He tried to call to her, but his voice caught in his throat. Where was he? What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he move properly? He tried to sit up, was hit by a wave of hurt, and crashed back to the ground in surprise.

She must have seen him moving, for she came running to him, dropping all her finds and forgetting her words.

“Fili, you’re awake!” She rushed to his side, and he could see she was concerned. “Does it hurt?”

He considered. “Only when I move, I think.” He felt her straighten a blanket up around his shoulders.

“Well don’t move then! Stay still, I can get you some medicine to take if it hurts again.”

Fili smiled dreamily at her. “You’re beautiful, do you know that? When you sing. You looked like a golden bird, flitting around in the sun.” He closed his eyes, trying to recall the image. “What were you singing?”

Sigrid wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or embarrassed. She’d had no idea he’d been watching her. She imagined he would probably forget about it once the poppy wore off.

“It’s just an old song I know, Cariad Cywir. I didn’t think you’d hear me- I don’t normally go around singing!”

“Beautiful Sigrid. Sing for me again!” He looked so calm and content, for the first time since she’d seen him leave for that stupid battle, and she didn’t want to disappoint him.

“‘Fanwylyd fach a gara’i byth...” she started, and continued on until she was sure he was sleeping, then halted to study him.

His skin was still pale, with a sheen of sweat and mats in his hair, but at least he looked comfortable now. She wondered if he even remembered the tight hug he’d given her, after her house had burned down and they’d washed up on the shore. He must have felt sorry for her, at the time. But they’d sat together by one of the fires that evening, slightly apart from all the others, and he’d leant her his jacket to keep her warm, and tried to make her laugh and talk about all her favourite, happy memories, and things hadn’t seemed so bleak with him there beside her.

She’d tried to get him to talk about his own life, or about his memories, but he’d kept turning the subject back onto her, as if her attention made him uncomfortable. She’d asked if he had a wife, or a sweetheart waiting for him to come home, and he’d looked more awkward than ever. She’d thought at first that she must have offended him somehow, but he’d seemed somehow saddened, and had told her that most of his kind thought he never would even make it home. She’d looked at him in the firelight, and told him that she thought he was strong and brave, and of course he’d be coming home, and then he’d make those folk feel foolish for ever doubting him! And he had laughed, and told her she was the first person to tell him so.

He hadn’t minded when she rested wearily against his arm, and hadn’t moved her when she fell asleep. She had woken up in the night, and his arm had been around her shoulder, keeping her warm and making her feel safe. And in the morning, when she’d realised she’d lost her hairbrush and mirror in the fire, he had given her his own blue comb to keep.

She’d looked at him in surprise, and thanked him, and seen in his grey eyes a heartfelt concern that had made her feel suddenly exposed. She’d asked him if he would come back to see them- to see her- before he went journeying off, and when he’d seen she wasn’t joking, he had pouted shyly and agreed. She’d laughed and said she would take that as a promise, and he had looked suddenly anguished, and told her he hoped it was.

Only later, when she heard about the raging battle, did she catch the meaning of his parting words, and she had been overcome with dread from then on until the elf had healed him. She had no idea what he thought of her really- he was much older than she was, and a dwarf. She must seem like a silly, simple-minded child to him. And she hardly knew anything about him. But she wanted to know more. She wanted to find out everything about him.

“You stopped singing, Sigrid. You have such a beautiful voice, you should sing all the time! Such a beautiful voice, for such a beautiful girl. I wish I was right for you, I really do. You make me happy when I look at you. You could never be happy with me, sweet girl, in my life. You should have someone make you happy!”

She leaned in close to him, and whispered into his ear. “You do make me happy, Fili. I think you underestimate yourself!”

He opened his eyes, and looked confused. “Myself? My life is all endless duties, and family responsibility, and maintaining honour, and fighting battles... There is no room in it for me, let alone a little songbird like you... You would not be happy with me, and nor would your people. You could have any man you wanted, and live happy here. I could never give you want you want...”

Sigrid stroked his hair gently.“What do you think I want, Fili? What do you want?”

His eyes, delirious as they were, creased up in a wide, vacant, smile. “I wanted to kiss you, when you asked me to come back to you. And later on, I wished I had. Later on, when I was in... When I was... ” He trailed off, and the smile left him. He clenched his eyes shut, and a spasm wracked his body, seeming to leave him struggling to breathe.

“Fili!” she cried. “What’s wrong?”

He tried to still his breathing, and his face contorted in pain. “There were orcs! They were everywere!” He opened his eyes, wide in horror. “Where am I? Where is my brother? My uncle? Where’s Kili!?”

She shook her head, scared. “Fili, I’m looking after you here, we’re in a cave near Dale. There was a battle, yesterday. You were hurt, you were hurt really badly. Your uncle is dead, Fili. I’m so sorry! I don’t know what has happened to your brother!”

He tried to relax his face, and she saw a tear roll from the corner of his eye down onto his ear. But he steadied himself. “I’m sorry, Sigrid. Thank you. Thanks for looking after me. Could I ask you a favour though, please?” He looked straight into her eyes, desperate. “Would you go and find the others, and find someone who knows what happened to my brother? Tell me whether he is alive, or...”

She nodded dumbly, and was about to try and explain, when she heard voices outside the cave. Someone was coming up the beach, towards them. She turned round, but no-one was visible to see through the cave mouth. She tried to judge if it might be dwarves, or men, or dangerous enemies closing in on them, but then she heard gentle female laughter, and felt a rush of relief.

“Tauriel?” she whispered.

“Kili?” cried Fili.

The footsteps grew louder, and a tall, redhaired elf appeared in view, walking hand in hand with a much shorter, dark-haired dwarf. They looked every inch a happy couple, flushed and smiling in the autumn sunshine.

“Kili!” Fili could see his brother now, his earlier confusion gone. “Is it you?”

Leaving the elf’s side, Fili’s brother ran eagerly over to his side, and kneeled on the floor beside Sigrid. His face was overjoyed. “Fili, it’s you! You’re alive! She told me you were okay, but I... I thought you might have been...”

Fili grinned back at him. “I feel terrible! I feel like I should be dead. What happened to you? We didn’t know where you were!”

A flash of guilt washed past his brother’s face, before he quickly neutralised it. “I was just with Tauriel- you remember her, don’t you? Spider-killer, crack-shot, magic powers...?”

A knowing look crept over Fili’s face. “Pointy ears, creamy skin, not enough facial hair?” He gazed appraisingly at the elf, making her way over to join them. “It’s good to see you again, my lady.”

Tauriel stepped soundlessly over to the group, and knelt down by Fili’s far shoulder. “Are you in any pain, Fili? How do you feel?”

Fili took a deep breath. “It hurts, but it’s not as bad as it was. I woke up earlier and the pain was... a lot worse. But I remember what happened to me now! I remember them stabbing me, and then...they threw me off the tower?” he looked up at Kili, who nodded gravely.

“I thought you were dead, brother. Your eyes were wide open when you hit the ground. I... went after them for you.” Kili tried to smile, but his face was grim. His brother raised his eyebrows, alarmed.

“You idiot, Kili. You should have run! It was an ambush! It’s a wonder you’re alive at all!”

Kili exchanged a glance with Tauriel, and the elf spoke up. “Actually, your brother _was_ mortally wounded. Everyone thought he was dead when he was brought back to Dale...but ... we managed to revive him through... using an old elven spell.”

Fili looked shocked. His eyes flew to Sigrid, in silent question, and she nodded her head gently. “Tauriel left me alone with you last night, after she’d tried to heal you- she went to perform an elven ritual to try and save Kili.”

The blond dwarf swallowed thickly. “A ritual? Really?” What kind of elvish devilry was this? He tried to control his sudden mistrust. “And it worked then? You’re okay, Kili?

Kili nodded, hearing the doubt in his brother’s voice. “Thanks to Tauriel. I’m great. Good as new!” His brother still did not look convinced, so he continued. “It was her that made the sacrifice the spell needed- I’m fine. She’s given up her immortality to do this, to save me. And she saved you too, Fili. You would be dead by now if she hadn’t healed you last night. Both of us owe her our lives.”

Fili looked at her, starting to view the elf in a new light. “My lady, if what I have just been told is true, then I and the rest of my family are greatly in your debt!”

Tauriel looked unhappy. “Fili, I do not ask for reward or speak of debt. For I fear your brother has spoken too hastily when he tells you that the sacrifice is all mine! It was Thranduil, the King of Mirkwood, who had his secret priestess perform this spell- on the condition that your brother’s survival must remain hidden from your people, forever- at all costs.”

Needles of concern were pricking at the edge of his mind now. “Are you saying that nobody-that none of our people- knows my brother is still alive?” His thoughts tried to catch up with his sudden, racing heartbeat. “Why does it matter if they know? Do they know that I am alive?”

Tauriel looked distressed, and Kili spoke up for her. “No, brother, they do not.” He looked his brother straight in the eye. “There was a funerary ceremony last night, and they buried two dwarves enchanted into our likeness beside our uncle. Everybody believes that we are both dead.”

Fili was incredulous. “How could anyone do such a thing? We need to go and tell them at once! Can you imagine how our mother would feel if she heard such news, Kili?”

Kili sighed, forlornly. “I know, Fili. This breaks my heart too. But Thranduil will kill us- he’ll kill you, kill me, and- ” he gestured to Tauriel, “he’ll kill her, if he finds out that our people know we survived.”

“But Kili, if he were to kill us, he would start a war! No dwarf would ever stand for that! For assassinations, and deception, and black magic. The elf-king would never go through with it, he’s bluffing!”

It was Tauriel’s turn to speak up. “No Fili, you are wrong. He does not see your people as a threat- he is convinced you are no match for his army on the battlefield- what small band of dwarves he thinks would even rally to your family’s cause, now Dain has been crowned King-under-the-Mountain... It was only yesterday his army was outside Erebor, have you forgotten?”

Fili grunted, angrily. “I remember it all too well, my lady.”

Tauriel continued. “You do not understand how much enmity he harbours for your family, Fili. He has nothing but contempt and hatred for the line of Durin. When your uncle and brother were killed in battle yesterday, and you terribly injured, he saw his chance to eliminate your family from the throne of Erebor, once and for all, and have his revenge on your ancestors.”

Fili was perplexed. “So how come Kili and I are still alive? Why did he help you to save my brother, and why hasn’t he come here to finish me off in my sleep?”

Kili now turned to his brother. “Because the elf-king’s son is in love with Tauriel, and he wants to ensure they can never be together.”

Seeing his brother’s blank face, he elaborated. “But now they never will be together, because I am in love with her too, brother, and she loves me.” His gaze rested on the red-haired elf, who smiled and lowered her head shyly. He gave a wry smile. “The elf-king thought I might be more useful to him alive than dead, despite my family lineage.”

Fili stared in amazement at the tall, beautiful elf by his side. “Is this true? Are you in love with my brother?”

Tauriel met Fili’s eyes directly, and smiled back at him. “With all my heart, Fili, I love him. Do not worry about my intentions towards him.” She returned her smile back to Kili, who was still gazing over at her, starstruck. “I only intend that he might make me his wife, one day soon, before the autumn is out.”

Closing his eyes, Fili tried to breathe calmly and gather his tangled thoughts. This was all too much to take in. His beloved uncle: dead and buried. His people: denied knowledge of his continued existence. His younger brother: dead- for a while. Then resurrected. And now sharing sickeningly sweet glances with an elf who claimed he was marrying her. Had his brother lost his mind? Had _he_ lost his mind?

His thoughts were interrupted by Sigrid, who was reaching over to give Tauriel a hug. “Are you getting married? Really? That’s so lovely! I’m so happy for you!” And Kili and the elf were beaming back at her.

Feeling suddenly ashamed, he put his doubts aside. “I am happy to hear you have found such joy together.” He blinked, and met the elf’s eyes directly. “I would be glad to welcome you into our family- insofar as it still exists, my lady”. He turned to his brother, and smiled, genuinely. “Well done, Kili. She’s a beauty. How did you pull this off?”

Kili gave him a roguish grin, and was about to speak, when the sound of voices approaching outside hushed them into sudden silence.

“What if it’s dwarves?” whispered Tauriel. “What will you say to them?”

Fili and Kili exchanged a glance, and Kili opened his mouth to speak again, when Sigrid jumped up. “I’ll go and see!” she promised.

Stepping as quietly as she could, the girl made her way to the mouth of the cave, and peered around the corner carefully. Her eyes widened, and she glanced back at the others, mouthing silently “it’s my Da!”

She knew he must be looking for her- he would search all of the caves until he found her- so reluctantly, she went out to greet the new arrivals. Maybe she could head them off before they got close enough to find their hiding place.

“Sigga! There you are!” Bard saw her emerge, and came running over to embrace her. His face was a collage of anger and relief. “Where have you been all this time, girl? We have been absolutely worried sick! People have been looking for you all over town!”

She looked downcast. “I’m sorry, Da, I really am, but I... I had to come back here with Tauriel.” She scanned the rest of the small party. It was just her father, the stern-faced, old wizard, and his strange, hobbit companion. No dwarves- but then again, these people could still tell other dwarves about her friends in the cave. “People were hurt. They needed our help.”

The wizard stepped up to her, and looked down at her seriously. “And who might these people be, young Sigrid? Last night you were claiming you had found none other than one of the dwarven heirs of Thorin Oakenshield, I seem to recall?” He looked right into her eyes, and she struggled to keep her face neutral, wondering what she could say to make them go away.

Bilbo looked at the girl, bedraggled in her dirty dress, but standing up to the wizard with an air of defiance. “But I was mistaken, your grace, of course I was- Thorin and his heirs were killed in battle and buried yesterday. It was a man, but Tauriel healed him, and took him back to the village... and I was just looking around here to make sure there was nobody else with him, you see...”

Bilbo was curious himself now. She was obviously not telling the truth. What _was_ she hiding?

Gandalf continued boring into her with his thousand-yard stare, and Sigrid sensed her ruse was not working. And then, from one of the trees on the hillside, a large, black shape flew down and landed square on her tormentor’s shoulder.

_Kraawk!_

“My crow, you’re back!” she exclaimed in surprise. Did she have her feathered friend to thank for this current predicament? Was this the crow’s idea of ‘help’?

Gandalf watched her reaction, and smiled wryly. “You see, Sigrid, a little bird tells me that you may be harbouring an injured dwarf in that cave from which we just saw you peering out. One that is in need of some assistance. I might also have been told many other, interesting things as well. And I should very much like to piece together what has happened here, if you would be so good as to explain to me?”

Sigrid knew she was beaten, and looked to her father for support. He shrugged, and the wizard persisted. “Sigrid, it is very important that I get to the bottom of what has happened here. People’ s lives may depend on it. Do not think any harm will come to anyone over this, I am to be trusted.”

Bilbo felt sorry for her, and tried to allay her fears as far as he could. “Yes, Sigrid- Gandalf is a friend, you can trust him- whatever it is.”

She sighed, came to a conclusion, and looked earnestly at the three of them in turn. “Please don’t tell anyone! It needs to be a secret, or they won’t be safe anymore!” And with that she began walking back towards the cave mouth.

Bilbo followed, wondering what the fuss could be. Did Sigrid have a secret sweetheart that she was hiding? Was she worried her father would be angry with them both? And what did that elf have to do with any of this, anyway?

Sigrid led them to the cave, and then disappeared into the darkness inside, calling out “It’s okay, they told me we could trust them!”

Bilbo followed fast on the heels of Gandalf and Bard, and stopped dead in surprise as they did too, once confronted by the scene awaiting them.

The red-haired elf was sat on the floor with her arms around a black-haired dwarf- who was definitely, positively, unmistakably, very much alive- while at their knees lay his dwarven brother, wrapped in a blanket and looking pale, with Bard’s daughter stroking her hands through his blond hair. Beside him, Bilbo heard Bard gasp in recognition, and Gandalf raised one of his wolfish brows critically.

Bilbo felt elated. “Fili! Kili! I thought you were dead!” The terrible memories of the battle resurfaced again in his mind’s eye, and he struggled to comprehend what he was seeing before him. “I mean, I saw you both die- we buried you last night!” He frowned. Was this some dreadful apparition? Was he maybe hallucinating? The herb that Gandalf had been smoking could sometimes pack quite a punch.

Kili grinned back at them, and took the elf’s hand in his. “It’s a long story, Bilbo, but as you can see, thankfully Fili and I are both quite alive! And we have my dear bride-to-be Tauriel here to thank for it, as I’m sure you’ll soon find out!”

Gandalf snorted. “Indeed. I think it’s high time I heard an explanation for all of this!”

Bard, his daughter’s apparent tenderness towards the injured dwarf not lost on him, agreed. “Yes, will someone please tell us what’s going on here?” He looked pointedly at his daughter.

So Sigrid began to explain the events of the past day. She started with the story of the crow’s strange behaviour- at which point the large bird flapped its wings on Gandalf’s shoulder and screeched its accord- and then Tauriel recounted all about her encounters with the elf-king, his mysterious priestess, and his threats of vengeance, should the royal brothers’ survival be passed on to the dwarves. Finally, Fili summarised their situation succinctly: “We don’t know what to do, where to go, and we would be most grateful for your discretion while we make our minds up, my friends.”

Gandalf eyed him, lying on the floor under the blanket. “You are still hurt, Fili. You need assistance, and somewhere to convalesce.”

Tauriel nodded her approval. “He has many broken bones, Gandalf, and I’m worried his spine might be damaged- he can’t move his neck very well. We need help to reshape his bones, and supplies to set them in cast to heal.”

Gandalf stepped forward to examine the dwarf. He lifted the blanket from around Fili’s shoulders, and placed his hands on the dwarf’s neck and chest, noting the darkened bloodstain covering his shirt. He bowed his head, searching in his mind for something, probing the depths of the injuries he could sense.

After some moments, he lifted his head from his meditations, and turned to address Fili directly. “Your spine is intact, you will suffer no lasting damage, dwarf. Though you need rest, and lots of it!”

Bilbo spoke, wonderingly. “But you fell from such a height, Fili! It would have killed me outright. How is this possible! I was convinced you were dead.”

Fili chuckled darkly. “We’re hard to kill, us dwarves. We build our homes inside mountains, and we live at great heights. Falls are pretty common, among dwarf-children. We’re built to be more resilient than you, my hobbit friend.”

“I’m glad Azog didn’t know that, Fili. I didn’t know that either. I’m so glad you’re both alive!” He looked at Kili and the elf, arms around eachother, and smiled.

Bard finally spoke up. “I for one will not betray your secret to anyone. I don’t see that anyone outside this cave needs ever know about you two. I can bring you all the supplies you need from the town, if you tell me what to bring, and when you are ready to be moved, Fili- we could set you up somewhere in Dale? Move you after darkness has fallen, and take you somewhere secluded, and secret. And there you could stay until you make your plans.”

Fili and Kili exchanged a glance. “We would be very grateful if you would do this, Bard.” Kili said. “Perhaps after winter we will journey somewhere further from here- somewhere further from our people- but for now, your help and hospitality would be most welcome!”

Gandalf looked at the dark-haired dwarf sitting content in the warrior elf’s arms, and their obvious love for each other. He noticed the small fleeting glances cast between the blond-haired dwarf and Bard’s daughter, and her small protective, comforting gestures towards him. He smiled knowingly.

“Then that is settled. Nobody here shall ever let on about your survival, Fili and Kili. Your secret is safe with us. We have no need for destabilising battles between elves and dwarves right now. You two shall stay here over winter, and then- who knows what the spring will bring?”

Bilbo chipped in too. “And I for my part, when I get back to the Shire- and write my book- I shall write that you were both killed in battle with your uncle.” He glanced at the red-haired elf and the brunette girl. “And I will erase you both from history all together! There will be no mentions of elven- or human- helpers to Thorin’s party in my annals!” He thought about it all for a moment before adding, “And nobody would believe the real story, anyway!”

Bard, Sigrid, Tauriel, Fili, Kili and Gandalf all thought his speech highly amusing, and laughed heartily together. Even the crow sitting on Gandalf’s shoulder joined in with a cackle. Bilbo didn’t know what was so funny, but he joined in with their laughter anyway. And for the first time in days, he felt certain that it was- this time- actually going to end happily ever after for his friends. And that was certainly worth keeping quiet for.


End file.
